


In the Discomfort of My Own Home

by pizzasavestheday



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluffy, Injury, Injury Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pizzasavestheday/pseuds/pizzasavestheday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owen isn't really used to taking care of people and Claire doesn't like being taken care of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Joyride

**Author's Note:**

> I am clawen trash. That is all. Takes place pre-incident.

     Claire walked out of the empty office and locked the doors behind her. As her heels clicked on the pavement she could hear a few roars and screeches from different directions, although she remained unfazed.

     She made her way to the parking lot, surprised to find it empty. She took out her phone and opened the flashlight, examining the spot where her car was earlier that day.

     "No, no, no, no, no!" She continued to curse under her breath as she dug around in her purse for her keys. One thing remained clear, someone was being fired.

     Before she could locate the number for a cab, she spotted a motorcycle coming towards her. She rolled her eyes when she saw who was on it.

     "Can I help you, Mr. Grady?" He chuckled.

     "It looks like I'm not the one who needs help."

     "I'm fine. I'm calling a cab so you can go home."

     "That's ridiculous. You know how long it'll take a cab to get out here. Why don't I just take you home?"

     Claire laughed. "On that? I'd rather walk."

     After a moment of silence Claire huffed and sat behind Owen on the motorcycle. As much as she didn’t like it, Owen was right; this was the only way to get home.

     "Is this supposed to fit two people? It's a little uncomfortable."

     Owen looked back with an amused smile on his face. "Are you uncomfortable?"

     Claire rolled her eyes and looked forward. Most of the ride was silent, except for when Claire stopped to complain about her hair. When they finally came to the street where Claire's house was, Owen began to pull into her driveway. She hastily thanked him and began on the path to her front door. However in her haste she tripped over the curb. In her left foot’s attempt to save her, it rolled to the right sending her tumbling to the ground. Seeing this, Owen parked the motorcycle and rushed to her side.

     She was clutching her ankle and had blood running down her leg. Without hesitation, Owen scooped Claire into his arms and carried her into her house and up the stairs.

     After setting Claire on her bed, Owen disappeared into another room.

     "Where do you keep your first aid kit?"

     "I'm fine really, you can leave."

     Owen peaked his head around the corner and looked at her unamused, "I'm not leaving."

     Claire looked at him for a moment to see if he would relent but eventually responded, "In the kitchen."

     He returned in a moment with a few supplies in hand and knelt down to get a better look at Claire's wounds.

     "Your scratches look like they'll heal quickly, but I think you might have bruised a bone in your ankle." Nonchalantly, he put some rubbing alcohol onto a cotton ball and started cleaning the scratch down her knee. She winced and looked down.

     "A bruised bone? Do I need a doctor?"

     "It's nothing I can't take care of. You just won't be able to walk for a few days."

     Claire gasped, half at the comment, and half because he'd just hit a soft spot with the cotton ball.

     "A few days?! I can't wait a few days I have work!"

     Owen chuckled and returned to where he was kneeling to continue patching her knee. "You have a few options. You could bring some crutches to work, of course that might make it hard to navigate through a giant amusement park filled with twenty thousand people. I think you should stay here and let it heal."

    Claire was silent for a moment. She looked between her ankle and Owen and examined her injury.

     "Even if I do stay home, how am I supposed to take care of myself? My house is two stories and even if I stayed on the first floor-"

     "I could stay here." They were both surprised by the comment. He froze in his place while Claire sat with her mouth gaping open.

      "I'm not sure what brought that on, Mr. Grady, but I think it'd be highly inappropriate."

     The two sat in silence. Owen carefully wrapped up her ankle in an ace bandage. After he finished, he stood up and was about to bid his goodbye when Claire spoke up, "Would you?"

     Owen bit his bottom lip and considered it. Claire was technically his boss and she was right; it was inappropriate. But he'd made it this far, and he was the one that suggested it.

     "Sure." Was his only response. Claire gave a small smile and nodded, thankful that he didn't tease her about it.

     "I, uh, need to get changed."

     Owen's face became exasperated and he awkwardly made his way out of the room.

     "Wait," she called, "I need clothes."

      "Of course." He said, making his way over to her dresser. She told him what clothes to grab and even offered him some men's sweats she had in the back of her closet. He did not miss the opportunity to tease her about it.

     After she was dressed, Claire called him back into her room. “There should be a pillow and blanket in the hall closet. You’ll find the couch is very comfortable.”

     Owen nodded awkwardly and left the room. After he had retreated to the living room he wondered if she needed anything else. He went to her door to ask but found her sound asleep. He stood there for a moment, watching her. What had he gotten himself into?

…

     The next morning Owen woke up with his phone buzzing next to him. He quickly answered it with his gruff morning voice, “Hello?”

     “Finally! Do you know this is the fifth time I’ve called you? I’ve been sitting in bed for half an hour and I can’t get downstairs to the bathroom. Can you please come up here?” It was Claire. Owen sighed and hung up the phone, quickly making his way upstairs. When he got there Claire was sitting up in bed with her arms folded across her chest. Her red hair was messy and fell across her face in tangled strands. Her tank top was white, similar to everything in her room (and house for that matter). One thing was for sure, Claire Dearing liked things clean.

     “Good morning, your majesty.” He said, leaning against the door frame.

     “That’s not funny.” Was her only response. He walked over to the bed and carried her downstairs while hearing he lecture about how it isn’t polite to hang up on people, especially injured ones. Halfway down she made a comment about how she thought it was ridiculous to be carried everywhere bridal style.

     Owen rolled his eyes. “What would you suggest?”

     “I don’t know! This is just a bit uncomfortable don’t you think?” Owen raised his eyebrows in agreement and threw Claire over his shoulder to mess with her.

     “Very funny, Owen. Put me down!” He was startled by the sound of his own name and set her down.

     “Are we on a first name basis now?” Claire pursed her lips and looked up. She felt a knot in her stomach but elected to ignore it.

     “Not at all. That’ll be all Mr. Grady.” Owen smiled faintly as she walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

     “Alright then… Ms. Dearing.” He stood there for a moment looking at the closed door before setting a pair of crutches outside of the bathroom.

…

     Another bang rang out from the kitchen and Claire willed herself not to look back from her place on the couch.

     “What was that?”

     “Don’t worry about it!” Owen called. Claire rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to smile as she looked back towards the television. A few bangs, three minutes of the microwave heating up, and at least fifty openings of the refrigerator later, Owen presented his meal on the coffee table.

     “Grilled cheese?” Claire asked, unamused.

     “Not just grilled cheese!” Owen responded sounding offended. “I’ve also included tomato soup and fresh made coffee.”

     “Adding ‘fresh made’ doesn’t make your coffee sound any more appealing.” Claire said. After a moment of staring down the meal she picked up her sandwich and began eating. After they were done eating Owen picked up their dishes and headed to the kitchen. Claire smiled when she heard the water running.

…

     Dinner went similarly and Claire asked Owen to bring her upstairs so she could do some work on her laptop. She didn’t exactly complain when he carried her bridal style.

     “I should’ve known if you took a few days off you wouldn’t be able to stay away from work.”

     “You said so yourself, I’m married to it.” Owen chuckled and took the opportunity to sit on the edge of her bed. Claire looked a bit surprised but didn’t tell him to move.

     “Mr. Grady, how long do you think you’ll be staying?”

     “Until you’re better, I guess. I don’t see how I can leave.” Claire nodded curtly and typed a few words on her laptop.

     “Oh, by the way, I need you to pick up my car from the park tomorrow. Apparently some intern thought he’d take it out for a joyride.”

     Owen chuckled. “WO-how! You’d think he’d know better than to steal something from Claire-fucking-Dearing!”

     Claire stared at him for a moment. She wasn’t exactly sure whether she should be offended or flattered. “Excuse me! Am I really that scary?” She didn’t mean for that to come out as playful as it sounded.

     “No, it just means you’re a little intimidating. Even _I_ know better than to mess with you.”

     “Really? Because if I had to guess I’d say you haven’t learned that lesson.” Claire hadn’t really realized that she was laughing at this point and was actually enjoying her conversation. Owen had worked his way up the bed and was practically sitting next to her. When Claire finally stopped giggling she peered at the man now only inches away from her.

     “Goodnight… Owen.” She faintly smiled. He took that as his signal to leave.

     “Goodnight, Claire.” Claire’s smile slowly grew wider as he left the room.


	2. Disaster Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Claire feels herself growing too close to Owen, her reflexes kick in. Not the good ones.

     I slowly made my way down the stairs with my crutches. I went as slowly as possible so that I wouldn’t fall and so I wouldn’t wake up Owen, not that I cared or anything. I was about to walk into the kitchen but heard a sound come from the laundry room. I crept closer in order to hear what it was.

     The sound was very low, so I had to get very close to hear it, but once I had my ear to the door I could hear Owen singing under his breath, “We’re happy, free, confused, and lonely in the best way…” Taylor Swift. Of course. He was in the second verse too. I tried hard not to laugh as I slowly made my way around the door so I could scare him. Just as I came face to face and was about to jump out, I noticed something that made me stop in my tracks.

     Owen was in his boxers.

     We stared each other down for a moment before Owen spoke up, “Uh- Cl-Claire… Do- Did you need something?”

      “I just wanted to know who was in here. Now I want to know why _you’re_ in here. _Undressed_.” Owen stumbled over his words again for a moment, seeming a bit surprised at how calm I was, “Well… I didn’t have any clothes to change into so I figured I’d just stay… like _this_ until my clothes were clean.”

     I nodded and exited the room calmly, “I’ll make you some cereal.” Once I got in the kitchen I made the two bowls of cereal as quickly as possible, but trying to get the image of Owen’s bare chest out of my mind took up most of my attention. It wasn’t so much that I _wanted_ the image out of my head, I just felt like I should.

…

     What happened later was somehow even more mortifying than the events of that morning. It started normally, but today when Owen started the science experiment he calls ‘lunch’ in the kitchen, I decided to join him.

     “I’m scared to ask what’s going on in here.” Owen had three bowls laid out on the counter, each filled with something different. There was a collection of baking ingredients on the counter along with oats and chocolate chips.

     “You’re not supposed to be in here!” He attempted to push me out but I ignored him, “I got a bit worried when you asked for the flour so I thought I’d check on you… Now I’m even _more_ worried.” I dipped my finger in one of the bowls to test it but had trouble taking it back out.

     “You look like you could use some help.” Owen nodded and rubbed the back of his neck like he agreed. Looking around, even he could tell things were a bit out of control. “Cookies were being made.”

     I nodded slowly as I took it all in, “Are you following a recipe?” Owen looked at me, as if worried. “You need a recipe to make cookies?” I shook my head and sighed.

      He explained to me what was going on in each of the bowls while I listened and corrected a few errors. One bowl had too much flour and another too little. I reached for the bag when an idea came to me. A stupid, awful, horrible, misguided bad idea. I slowly put some flour in my hand, turned around, and slapped Owen square in the face.

     He looked utterly shocked. It took a moment for the smoke cloud of flour to clear but when it did Owen was laughing with a surprised look on his face. I realized my mistake and attempted to run for the door but Owen had already covered his hands in flour and clasped in arms around me, getting my purple tank top covered in it. As if that wasn’t enough, he picked me up and spun me around in the cloud of flour he’d created. I kept laughing until I realized how inappropriate this was. Could you imagine if someone from work could see us right now?

     I quickly got down and fixed my tank top and shorts as best as I could, “I assume you’ve figured out how to bake the cookies by now, I’ll be upstairs.” I saw him start to protest (or apologize, I’m not sure which and I didn’t really care) so I quickly cut him off, “And yes, I can get up there by myself.” I squeezed my eyes shut and did my best not to look back as I exited.

…

     Later that night, I sat in my room on my laptop, mentally preparing myself for the conversation I needed to have with Owen. Although when he sat down, I already started doubting myself. I managed to get the words out by looking away.

     “Owen, I’m afraid you’ve become too comfortable here. I can take care of myself so…” I had to force out the last part, “It’s time for you to leave.”

     He seemed more amused than upset, which is pretty much what I expected. “Really, Claire? Because you’re the one who seems uncomfortable. I think this is more about you than me.” He shrugged like he had just ended the argument but I was having none of it. I shoved my laptop to the side and got in his face, “And _I_ think _you_ are overstepping your bounds,” I clenched my jaw over the next two words, “ _Mr. Grady!_ ”

     Owen huffed and looked at me for another minute before clicking his tongue and getting up. I was a bit shocked that he gave in so easily.

     “So that’s it then?” I asked from my position on the bed, suddenly feeling ten times smaller.

     “That’s it.” Owen looked at me with more seriousness and disappointment than I’d ever seen him portray. With that, he left the room. I huffed once more and pulled my laptop back onto my lap, still staring at the door to see if he would reenter.

     That could’ve gone better.


	3. Settle In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fluff, fluff, and more fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I haven't updated this, but it's never too late! (also sorry it's so short)

When I woke up in the morning I laid in bed for a while so I could hear if Owen was still here. I’d never known him to give up a fight as easily as he did and I wasn’t sure if he’d took my advice and left.  
This was exactly what I didn’t want. Suddenly Owen and I felt comfortable together and that was more than I could handle; too much was out of my control. I could only focus on so many things at a time and right now that had everything to do with my work.  
To my relief (if you could call it that) I heard a cabinet slam downstairs, suggesting that Owen hadn’t left. I rolled my eyes knowing there’d be another mess in the kitchen to clean up but knowing that he was making something else secretly excited me.  
I sat there for another 15 minutes before deciding he wasn’t coming to get me. I didn’t want to go down there with nothing to do but wait for him to finish so I grabbed some dirty clothes from the corner in my room, leaving the crutches behind.  
I was doing fine going down the stairs until I put too much weight on my left foot. I didn’t expect it to hurt as much as it did and I winced before my knee buckled and sent me crashing into the step. I was able to catch myself before completely falling down but I couldn’t seem to get back up.  
Owen had apparently heard me fall because two seconds later he was rushing up the stairs and carrying me back down. He set me down on the couch and propped by injured foot on the table.  
“Have you ever noticed that you only get hurt when you’re trying to prove a point?” Owen asked sarcastically.  
“I’m surprised you’ve never gotten hurt being such a smartass.” I quipped, hoping that he wasn’t still mad at me. He chuckled, which I took as a good sign.  
“Still think I’m too comfortable?” He asked, getting dangerously close to me. I don’t think he meant it when he said he knew not to mess with me. This time, with no anger, I nodded, fighting back tears I didn’t know had welled up. Owen stroked my cheek with one hand and kissed me tenderly on the forehead before getting up and walking to the kitchen to get the food he’d made, this morning it was pancakes.  
…  
That afternoon, I sat on my bed with my laptop in front of me and the TV playing in the background. I was a little offended that things hadn’t turned to shit without me, but at the same time glad that the park wouldn’t completely fall apart.  
Owen came striding in and I closed what I was doing, knowing he’d probably distract me; he was getting better and better at that.  
“No, come on. You need a break.” He said, pushing my laptop to the end of the bed. I looked at him and pursed my lips as he scooted in beside me. I could feel the heat radiating off of his bare chest but turned my attention to the TV.  
“What do you want to watch?” He asked. He suggested Sons of Anarchy but I shot that down as quickly as it came. I eventually decided on Roman Holiday and settled in against his chest, hoping he didn’t mind. I guess he didn’t because he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and brought me closer.  
We sat like that for most of the movie, but I kept getting distracted and looking up at him, sighing and letting myself be calm for once. He looked down at me and we smiled at each other lazily. I must’ve drifted in and out of sleep while lying there because I don’t remember much. I remember my one of my legs between his and my head rested on his chest, feeling it rise and fall steadily.  
I ultimately decided to take the rest of the week off. I had never imagined how much I’d enjoy being off work. That night I woke up a bit groggy just in time to hear Owen say he was going downstairs to make dinner. I smiled and allowed myself to be excited.  
“Owen, wait.” I said, rising up to my knees and waiting on the edge of the bed. When he came over I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him intensely. Owen quickly returned it and I could feel him smile as he lifted me up. I laughed and held him closer, utterly grateful that he was here.


End file.
